Finding Shi
by JiraiyaWhitney
Summary: Doctor Edward Elric's back but on a mission for Ran Fan. And then all hell breaks loose when murder attempts on the team happen and he finds his mission to be a wild goose chase. Or, at least, he thought he did. Post-Manga/Brotherhood
1. Welcome Back to Central

AN: OMiGate, I opened this document up and it said "Document113"! O.e I think I should take a break and stop rereading my old stories now…..

Anyway, I've had this story idea for a while now (*cough*fourhoursnotincludingsleeping*cough*) and, yeah, let's see how this goes….

Warning: Manga Spoilers! All the way through Chapter ***msgd*** so you should just read it all before reading this.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own anything as it belongs to Arakawa and if I did own it, everything I write (that's not AU) would be true…. As well as many more Bunny Hump times. ^.~

* * *

Chapter I –

Edward Elric, age twenty-three, Full Metal Alchemist, Alchemist of the People, walked up the grand staircase to Central HQ at exactly Oh-Seven-Hundred-Twenty-Six hours on an early August morning, still feeling the morning sun beating down on the back of his neck, which was only partially covered by the ponytail he had on the crown of his golden blond head.

The Navy Blue cotton-wool mixture of his Military Uniform stuck in his left knee's joint as he advanced up the stairs, but quickly found itself unstuck as he moved the next leg. In the sparse daylight, the silver chain on his chest caught, sparkling in an almost unrealistic way on the white marble before him that remained, to this day, somehow unscathed by the years of Military Boots stomping up and down them.

Under his left arm a stack of papers rested, jostled every time he took a step but otherwise unaffected by the movement. In an attempt to keep his mind occupied he lifted his right, white cloth covered hand and brushed a part of his bangs back from his face, letting himself envy the feel of the nostalgia that passed through him.

_This place hasn't changed, _his mind told him as he took the last of the one-hundred-ninety-two steps to the top of the staircase. Those standing guard at the gate looked at him for a moment before the nameless foot soldier on the left saluted and the one on the right turned around, authorizing his entrance before saluting as well. _Not a bit, even these two have their old jobs._

He nodded to them and waved off their salute with a quick one of his own, walking through the gates the moment they were open enough to. He couldn't help remembering that, as a child, he would have run up the side of the wall and passed through there without a second's hesitation but now, he couldn't bring himself to do something so childish. When he had fully grown, he had no idea, though he was sure it had something to do with working under Greed for that six-month time frame before the Promised Day.

He had to smirk and laugh to himself at the thought of that. He had lost his alchemy then; five years without it, he knew, seemed like nothing yet now, with newfound knowledge, he knew better. And maybe there was a newfound scar or two on his face to prove it, but it was true—he knew The Truth, had seen it itself as but a boy, and had known the moment that he had given up His Truth, that he would one day get it back.

Not that he was going to brag about it or anything (unless it was to Lieutenant General Roy Mustang, currently positioned in Central HQ with his old squad attached at the hip—especially Jean L. Havoc haven been restored by Doctor Tim Marcoh before he returned to Ishval, for good this time).

As he walked the halls of the building he had once detested, the average, low-ranking and new (as in instated within the last five years 'new') recruits that spotted him stood on the spot and saluted, having instantly spotted the chain on his chest. He waved them off, told them not to do it again and continued on, climbing the steps to the fifth level of the HQ, walking to the back of the first hall, as he had been instructed, and turned right, following his instincts as he read the amount of people in each room without once stepping in.

Those that were in this hall stopped to stare at him as he passed by. He gave a charming smirk to the ones he recognized and smiled warmly at those he didn't, feeling their stares on his back as he walked on, taking their looks with nothing more than simple passing, fleeting feeling. He had gotten used to the looks as a child over a decade ago; now, they were a welcomed part of the nostalgia that passed over him.

The door that stood before him almost made him want to laugh, the joy that bubbled in his chest almost too much for him to take as he read the room. From what he could tell out here, he knew that barely anything had changed; the desks had been shifted an inch to the left so they were now in the exact middle and it looked as if there were a few books spread out on the floor over on the right, near the file cabinets Breda used to hide on top of whenever Black Hayate had come into the office and, wait, speak of the devil, he could hear a dog yapping at the door right now!

It was harder to tell, since the door on the other side of the room was shut, but there it was, there was that familiar hunched figure, leaning on his hand as he read over the reports with a woman beside him. He couldn't see through the door—that's preposterous—but as he stood there, unknowing how he knew this, he shrugged to himself and remembered how he had been able to do that since he was a young boy—five, he believed, but maybe sooner.

Through the hard, mahogany-painted oak wood door he heard Breda yell "Captain, your mongrel wants to be taken out!"

He bit his lip for a moment as he heard a door open in the room and took in a deep breath, already half-hearing Havoc and Fury's laughter at the words as he calmed again and opened the door, fixing his hand on the brass door knob and pushed on it, not at all surprised to see Captain Riza Hawkeye standing at the other door and sending Breda a death glare through her placid mask.

With his entrance unnoticed, he was the only one to notice Black Hayate's escape. He stood there, watching the office spectacle for a moment before turning half around and spoke with a clear voice, saying "Sit." In that instant, Black Hayate turned around and faced him, sitting down on the carpet as he felt several pairs of eyes on him, watching him. "Heel." Within three seconds the dog was once again at his feet and he kneeled down, patting his head as he told him, "Good boy," and shut the door.

The air was thick as he walked by them, forcing himself not to smirk as he walked by, like a spotlight was placed upon him. Even Riza Hawkeye, one to not be taken lightly upon anything was taken by surprise as he shifted, walking by her without touching her before lightly shutting the door behind himself.

"You're five years late, Full Metal." Roy Mustang, The Flame Alchemist, remarked. His tasseled black hair was longer than he had last seen it at, but not by much seeing as how it was barely out of the man's thin, onyx eyes. As he spoke, he lowered his right hand from his face which, under those gloves, Ed knew had a scar of the same design.

"Well, when you said to take a 'left' at the end of the hallway, I got a little lost," he joked, tilting his head slightly with a sly grin so that he knew. Mustang chuckled before making a face and indicated the papers under his arm before muttering "I hope that's not for me."  
"Well, then, prepare to have your hopes crushed," he grinned and walked forward, handing him the paperwork and coming back to sit on one of the pleather couches. Mustang flipped through the papers before unclipping the last fifteen-so and holding them up. "Very funny, Full Metal."

He grinned and shrugged. "Great way to start the morning though, ain't it?"

"Oh, very hilarious." He rolled his eyes and opened a drawer in his desk, dropping the blank typewriter paper in there before shutting it again and turning back to the much more reasonable five-piece document. Somewhere in the third page, his eyebrow arched before it fell back down and he nodded to himself and continued on.

Ed smirked to himself and laid back completely, relaxing his back and shoulders before shutting his eyes and focusing in on his other senses. The air was cool and relaxed in the room, but outside, seeping in from under the door, he could still feel the shock of the office. He felt the pressure change as Mustang looked up at him before he looked back down again, returning it to normal once more.

_This is weird, _Ed's mind told him more so than his actual thought process. He had always been able to read things without looking and he had always been able to, in a sense, sense the things around him, but it had never been _like this_. It had never been so easy to focus in on until now. Maybe it was because he was back at Central HQ that he was so paranoid—yes, that made sense. That was why, of course.

He couldn't shake the thought that maybe that wasn't it.

"How was Xing?" Mustang's voice floated through to him and it almost sounded as if he actually cared. Or maybe it was because he had spent so many years with him, learning his masks and the influx of his voice that he knew that he was at least curious in some bit, but, then again, that made him feel even more paranoid and he brushed it off.

"Well, it wasn't cold that's for sure."

The man laughed through his nose and his air shifted slightly, telling Ed that he had shaken his head for the moment. "Well, what did you expect? A Snow Wonderland? I'm afraid that's North, not East."

He snorted, this time and sat up, shrugging. "I was at the Emperor's Palace most the time, so I'm not really sure. From what I last heard from Ling, Ran Fan, Mei and Alphonse, the economy seems to be getting better, and less and less of their people have been suffering. Though, when I went there, I was still shocked by how many people were living out of shacks so if less people are suffering I don't want to know what it looked like before."

Through the mental picture he has of the room, he could tell that Mustang's eyebrows arched for a split second before he nodded once and turned back to the papers, pushing them away from him as he continued, "How's Alphonse?"

"He's getting used to the life over there ever since he married Mei-Chan."

"He and Mei are married? I had no idea."

"Well, technically it's not official _yet_. They're going to get him used to that life first, and they've planned for their marriage to be orchestrated in four and a half months, but Al's a little hurt that it's so far away. He's secretly coming to town sometime this week. We're going to do lunch. He's also talked with the Emperor and they've agreed for him to be able to come back and forth as a Negotiator as long as it's for what Xing needs from Amestris since he knows both places so well."

"Well, it's nice to hear that he's getting his life together so soon after finding his way out of the armor."  
"Yeah. It was kind of weird; the first three days that he was better after all that sensory overload stuff he was still getting used to walking on legs and feeling stuff were ok, but by the fourth day, Winry and I were shoving him out the door, telling him to find his own way in life. I went to Creta for a bit when he first left, too, or at least that's what everyone thinks."

"So what's the truth?"

"I went to Xing, stopped at a couple places in Drachma in the round way place. Like I said, I was in the Emperor's Palace most of the time, training with Ran Fan and learning Alkahestry. I actually like the fundamentals of it better than I do Alchemy. It just makes sense."

"Actually, I do too. I'm not sure why. Whenever I read it or think about it, I feel more in tune with the Earth for some inexplicable reason…."

"I know, right? It's just mellower in a way of extremes. And, it's a lot more complicated in its simplicity. As well as the fact that it works on humans as a way of healing, too. It makes me feel secure about the others around me."

"I can name a few things that you just described in that sentence."

Ed tilted his head up finally and opened his eyes. "What would that be?"

"It's complicated in its simplicity."

He flipped him the bird for a moment before lying his head back down. There was a long pause before he asked "How've these past five years worked out for you, _Lieutenant General_? Actually, when I heard that rank, I was pretty disappointed in you."

"I've been to court I don't know how many times about the Promised Day. None of the charges held, but it got so _fucking _annoying."

Ed laughed and bent up enough to support his upper body with his elbows. "You'd think they realize that we didn't kill anyone and get over it already. I mean, _seriously,_ our stories aren't going to change at all if you say 'and Fuhrer Bradley' or anything. _God _that was _so_ annoying." He dropped his elbows, falling back down. "I _finally _finished with all my court dates _yesterday_. I was so pissed when I found out I had to go."

"I finished about a month and a half ago. Thank whatever deity is out there that it's over."

"You know we say this and it's going to turn out that we have another court date say, like, next week." He groaned.

"Don't jinx it."

Ed laughed sourly but couldn't help the smile that touched his lips as he stared up at the ceiling, luckily located at the top of the room. There was that stupid popcorn-crap at the top of it and the circulating fan had stopped wriggling every time that third panel spun around, so it didn't squeak anymore and he supposed that was a good thing. Above them, he counted six… no seven people walking across the ceiling, most likely either to meet with His Majesty the Fuhrer himself or to go to a Brass Meeting, since he wasn't sure if the latter was happening or not.

"You're despondent." Mustang finally pointed out. "Something wrong?"

He let out a deep sigh and shut his eyes again, counting Number Eight inwardly. He put his right forearm over his eyes before muttering "I signed my Divorce Papers yesterday. That's all. It's nothing."

"Divorce papers?"

"Yeah…."

"I wasn't aware you were married."

"Obviously not in the right way," he muttered quietly. "It seemed like the more I wanted to be around, the less she wanted me around. I don't get it." He waved his hand in the air and shook his head. "N'y pense plus. Il n'est pas important."

"Obviously it is important to you, so I refuse to forget it." Again he propped himself up on his elbows and furrowed his eyebrows.

"You mean you understood that? You do realize that's Xingese, correct?"

"Yes, I did understand that, and, yes, I do know another language other than Amestrian, Full Metal." His eyes were slanted a little more than usual and their onyx core stood only partially focused, meaning that the man wasn't amused with what he had said, almost as if it was an insult—which was anything but what he had meant it as.

"Don't get me wrong," he back tracked, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it as an insult—for once. It was an honest question. I wasn't aware that you knew Xingese—let alone can translate it so fast." He went so far as to balance on his core muscles, waving his hands in front of him and shaking his head twice more.

Mustang arched his brow for a moment before pointing out "I know you did background checks on us after you were forced to quit on the Promised Day. How did you not know?"

"I got the rest of the team all the way to three days before their birth," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand, using the right one to balance on the edge of the couch. Number Nine walked over their heads before he realized it was just Number Three walking back from wherever she had gone in the first place.

"I could only get you back to when you were eleven years old. There is _literally _nothing on you before that. And even so, at eleven it's just you doing something or other with Alchemy that alerted Berthold Hawkeye to you, even if you were left to develop it by your lonesome until you were sixteen. There isn't even a record that you were even in Primary School _anywhere_."

Dark orbs studied his face for a long time, flickering from one part to another before they shut and a white-clothed hand came up, resting on his forehead, hiding himself for that brief second before it dropped and he was all-mask all over again. "Your divorce; were you married to that Rockbell girl? Winry was her name, right?"

He gave a strained smile and nodded for a moment before asking—ignoring the fact that his voice was weak for this brief time and hoping that he did, too—"How did you guess?"

"The two of you always had a sort of chemistry, even when you were working so hard to keep it hidden from yourself."—He ignored it as his cheeks heated slightly and looked the other way—"You still love her, don't you?"—He wasn't given enough time to answer—"Then why did you agree to the divorce?"

He stared at his face for a while before letting his eyes drop to the top of the man's desk, unable to hold the contact any longer. "I would rather live with her being happy than her being miserable. If I was what made it that way, then I couldn't live with myself that way…. I thought about it a lot last night, too, and I think I was starting to feel the same way, but it's leaving my children that seems to be the hardest part."

"You have children?"

He knew his head snapped up and he knew that the smile on his face would be the warmest that the man had ever seen him with, from the time he was eleven to now, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Yeah; a little boy and a little girl—Leroy's four and Paninya's three. They're the two smartest kids I've _ever _met. Seriously! Leroy's in the first grade already. We had started him in preschool, but his teachers moved him to kindergarten and now first grade all in the duration of a month! Nina's not old enough yet, but with the way she's talking we're pretty sure that she's following the same track. Just before I left for here, while I was packing, I found a bunch of beginner arrays that one of them had drawn! They were just simple things—transmuting something red to green, you know, those beginnings—but they were _perfectly drawn_!"

He noticed that Mustang was smiling at him and felt the blush start to tinge his ears. He bit his lip for a moment before the older man raised his left hand, twirling it in a circle, telling him to continue on; that he was listening.

Ed released his lip for a moment and reached down, brushing the leg-skirt of his uniform back (he had tried to find a way to wear the uniform without it before he reread the Rule Guide and found out that State Alchemists were required to wear them), reached into his front pocket and tossed him his worn, brown wallet with the same black insignia that had been awarded to him and Al as children by Teacher.

Mustang watched him for a short period of time before opening the wallet and noticed the small pictures he had stored in the open space. He slid them out carefully and took the time to truly _look_ at all three of them. One was of the boy—Leroy, he'd said?—sitting at a table, wearing a white, baggy shirt and a pair of tan shorts. He had short, golden-blond hair (antennae and all) and brilliantly curious gold eyes as he took apart some sort of metal contraption which lay before him.

The second one had a young girl, lying on her stomach with a light pink pacifier in her mouth. Her short blonde hair was gathered up on either side of her head, twined by small pony-tail holders not unlike the ones he had given to Elysia for her third birthday—except these were blue. Her eyes, too, were a stunningly bright blue that, as he continued to look, actually had flecks of Edward's gold in them, bringing them out in a dazzling way. Even now, looking at this picture of her on the hardwood ground with a pink blanket bunched under her, an odd camera tilt and the two smallest toes of an Automail foot in the far corner, he knew that this girl was going to grow to be a very beautiful young lady—very intelligent, too, only because she's Edward's daughter.

The last one had been turned around in the wallet and was obviously from a happier time. It was of Winry and Edward, the two of them standing alone in the room, the former with a cute yellow sundress, stripped with a light blue at parts with the young baby—Paninya?—in her arms, who was just barely looking at the camera with her pacifier as well. Edward was in a pair of dress pants and a pressed white shirt, holding in his arms Leroy, who was wearing almost the identical outfit. Their smiles were identical, each of them nearly shutting their golden orbs from the size.

He flipped it over and slid it back in with the other two in the same order before tossing it back. Ed caught it easily and slipped it back into his pocket.

"What did you say their names were?"

"Leroy Urey Luc Elric and Paninya Izumi Riza Rockbell."

"She has her mother's family name?"

"Yeah"—he shifted slightly and his gaze turned to the floor again. _Three people in the office below us_, his mind reported without his will—"She wanted to change Leroy's, too, but I couldn't handle both of them and, I mean, Leroy's starting to make memories that'll last the rest of his life, anyway; I figure that since Nina's so young, she would never remember having 'Elric' be her family name, anyway."

"That's rough."

Ed looked up after a moment and gave a shaky smile. "Hawkeye's about ready to storm in on us. We should get together for lunch or something and get caught up further. My treat."

"I'll think about it," he replied and motioned towards the papers on the corner of his desk. Ed stepped forward and took them before he advanced toward the door and opened it, instantly noticing the way the woman had jumped with her arm outstretched towards the knob. He stepped aside, motioned with his right arm for her to come in and made sure she did so before once more turning to Mustang and giving a small bow of respect. He turned to leave, not bothering with closing the door since he knew they would want to see it as he ducked under the First Lieutenant's and Major's (and the one Lieutenant Colonel's) air-filled lunges and placed his right hand on Havoc's forehead as he tried a redo.

"Heel," he ordered after hearing poor Black Hayate's whine. The dog happily jumped to his feet as he opened and shut the oak. The dog followed willingly as he trotted upstairs, giving the paperwork to the Fuhrer's Secretary and took the few letters that had been meant for the office before he left, trotted down the stairs to the main grounds.

This time, as he walked into the office with the still stunned silence on him, letting Black Hayate run in a circle before he went over to a corner and laid down in it, making himself comfortable, he turned to the others and gave them a cheery smile, saying, "Well, if y'all ain't a sight for sore eyes, I don't know what is."


	2. What the? Mei!

Chapter II –

An hour later, as they sat together at the desks in the office, Ed across from Hawkeye and beside Havoc, who was beside Breda (and Falman's desk, considering he was out doing something else right now) with Fury across from those two, the radio he was tinkering with earlier long since forgotten on the desk beside him, Mustang came out of the office and slapped an envelope on the back of his head, knocking a bit of his ponytailed hair over his shoulder.

He knew from the gesture it was a joke; there was no way Mustang could ever hit anyone he wasn't completely pissed at or ordered to (and even then, he probably wouldn't) but Ed still looked to see the envelope he had given him when he had returned in his hand. He leaned forward, taking his own off his desk and ripped open the bottom of it. He squeezed it in a way that the paper in it fell out just barely, making its landing in the middle of his palm. He flipped the top of the tri-folded paper up and read it quickly.

His chair tipped backwards as he groaned, throwing his head back. His arms flew out as he fell, flailing, before he froze in the midair, closer to the ground than the desk. His left hand came up and rested above his forehead as he let out a quick breath. He threw his weight up, flopping back properly. "I need to readjust to that," he muttered quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.

"You need to tell me how you predicted _this_," Mustang corrected, motioning towards the envelope in his hand.

"It was a _joke_," he groaned. There was a pause before he laughed slightly and leaned forward, plucking the white business envelope from his superior's hand and took out the letter. "That's weird."

"What is?"

"We're being called at the same time and place. Hey, guys, open your letters and tell me when and where they're requesting you." He finished, looking up at the others. Quickly, everyone had their envelope opened and, instead of telling him, they passed them over—Falman's, too, after Havoc took a moment to stare at it with a furrowed brow.

"_Everyone's _is for the same place and time," he muttered, quietly. "But they all have different reasons for the meeting."

"What are they?" Mustang went so far as to voice his team's question. The fact that he had said it aloud instead of having it in the open right there, waiting for the rest of them to voice it put it in perspective for them all with how odd it was. The moment that he had said it, Ed knew from the way the air felt around him, they had brushed it off but now that it was out there….

"Well, yours is for some sort of document that burnt down with the First Branch all those years ago. I can't tell if it says 'XI' or 'Eleven' though. Mine is 'in regards to the Promised Day', imagine _that_. Ah,"—he put those two letters and envelopes aside and grabbed another before he made sure to read who's it was—"Hawkeye's is for the Ishval Rebellion—I don't get it, that was over a decade ago, wasn't it? Shouldn't that be cleared up?"—He shook his head and moved it to the side, grabbing up the next two letters—"Havoc's is for some sort of disturbance or something he was called to back in February as is Falman's, only his was from May. Kain's is actually him being called to lecture some of the cadets on the 'proper use of Military Lines' and 'how to lay them on the front lines' of war. Breda's just says it's in regards to his mother…."

"But they're all the same place and time, you said?" Havoc replied, furrowing his brow. "Where exactly is it?"

"Ah, some place at 142 West Emerald Street with the note saying 'the left door'." He paused a moment before he reached into his desk and pulled out a large map of Central, folded it slightly and laid it out. He found the street that marked East from West and quickly followed it down, looking for Emerald. Almost immediately he found it and moved until the square block said '142'. "I thought that sounded familiar. Really, Chris?"

Mustang looked at him for a split second or maybe two before he shook his head and picked up his envelope.

"She needs a hobby," Ed muttered, laughing into his hand as he handed the others back their envelopes.

"What are you talking about?" Mustang asked, using his voice that clearly said he was joking—the last time Edward had heard this voice directed towards him was when he was studying for the State Exam, readying for the rest of his life. "Her hobby is messing with us."

As Edward laughed, Mustang turned around and retreated back into his office, shutting the door. At long last, the blond turned to the others and shook his head "These letters are bogus. The owner of a bar just wants us to go to her Grand Opening this Saturday."

* * *

Ed sat in the office around noon a few days later, debating on whether or not to go to lunch yet when he noticed someone stop outside the oak doors, leading in. His head lifted from where he had stopped reading in the Alkahestry book and he stared for a moment, catching Havoc's attention. He cleared his throat and said "We're in here, Mei! Ignore the lack of lighting."

The door opened and the shapely woman walked in, offering up a warm smile. She now stood at 5'2'' and her thick black hair was pulled around in a large braid, leading back into the buns on her head. Her warm, dark coloured eyes danced around the room before landing on him. Still, she wore that same red-pink kimono (as he had learned they call them) as always with the slit on its sides halfway up her thighs.

"Why's it so dark?" She asked. Her accent was thick for the first few words, but she quickly switched to the Central Accent, pronouncing things easily without the heavy emphasis on the letters—especially 'th' sounding as 't'. It was hard for him, too, to learn the proper Xingese Accent since it's such a back-of-the-throat and nasal language whereas Amestrian was right at the tip of the tongue.

"The power's out," he answered, simply, and motioned towards the candle that stood on the corner of his, Havoc's and Hawkeye's desks, melting slowly into the golden cup. There was another one on the other corner of Havoc's in between Breda and the other side of Fury's workspace. Since Falman was still out today, they hadn't lit the one on his desk, though there was one there.

"That's stupid." She pouted for a moment before her eyes flickered from the floor to the ceiling and back to his face. "Why haven't you just fixed it yet?"

He shrugged for a moment before his hand came up and he pointed towards where Captain Hawkeye was still hard at work. There was a long time before she blinked a few times and looked up, giving him her signature 'Get Back to Work' glare and looked back down at her paperwork. Mei giggled before coming over and shutting his book, sitting on the corner of his desk.

"I take it you're bored, Mei-chan," he said, leaning back and giving her a raised eyebrow look. She just shrugged and looked behind her as she leaned back and pressed her hands onto his desk, making sure to keep them off of the others'.

"Yep!"

"Is there any particular reason why you're in this office?"  
"I've got to meet with your General." She shrugged her shoulders, like it was nothing.

"Well, the Lieutenant General is in a meeting. Has been since this morning before we all got here. Can I take a message to him for you?"

"Yeah, tell him to 'Dépêchez-vous va le faire t'avec sa rencontre' for me, sil te plaît."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because with the way you said that you're telling him to 'hurry the fuck up with his meeting' and _that _will get me fired."

She arched her right eyebrow at him and tilted her head, giving him a small, disbelieving grin. Her shoulders readjusted themselves so that she was at a much more relaxed position. "So? That's never stopped you before. And there was a 'please' in there."

"Before, I had a contract to hold to with the Fuhrer, now, however, my contract is directly with Mustang and, at any point in time he feels it necessary, he will terminate it. I realize that with you being a princess and all, you don't need to have a job to keep you living, but I, however, do. And the 'please' was directed at me." She just stuck her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes and scooted his chair back, standing up and knocked on Mustang's door, waiting for his "come in" before his the cold brass was pressed against his white glove, allowing him to open it. Mustang was leaning against the front of his desk with his hands on the lip, bracing himself and someone he'd never seen before was seated on the couch he had been laying on only three days ago.

"What is it, Full Metal?" Mustang's voice touched his ears the moment he had gotten the door open enough.

"Sir, Mei Chang of Xing is here, requesting your presence."

There was a pause as the man pulled out his State Watch and looked at the time. His lips moved in the silence, though Ed could have sworn they had just barely said 'She's early' before he nodded at him. "Thank you, Full Metal. We'll be a minute more."

"Yes sir," he nodded his head and shut the door behind him as he left. He gave Mei a glare before he sat down again and kicked his legs up on _his _desk, next to her thigh. "He'll be with you in a minute."

"I'm going to kill him," she growled, glaring at the doors. It was his turn for his eyebrow to arch as he shifted once more in his chair, giving her a hard look.

"I'm tempted to arrest you for that, too, if the feeling you gave off when you first entered has anything to do with that sentence."

She just scrunched her nose up at him and stuck her tongue out again. "Hey, why's Alphonse-sama acting antsy?"

"He's _your _fiancé." He pointed out, lifting his right hand into the air for emphasis. She leaned forward just slightly, testing him as if he honestly did know. Of course, he did, so he was careful to keep his breathing right and to trick his body into thinking that it was true—which, for his own sake, seemed a lot easier than it should have been. "Why don't _you _tell _me_?"

"Exactly! He won't talk to me ever since we planned our wedding day! I mean, sure, we _talk_ but we don't _talk_ like we used to and every time I ask if something's wrong, he just says 'no, nothing's wrong' like it's true! It's so hard to talk with him now!" She let out a breath and turned to face him. "So, how's your family?"

"Leroy's in first grade-"

"Already? Last I checked he was just in preschool!"

He smiled. "I know, right? And, anyway, Nina's starting to tinker with my ex's Automail and just a few days ago she put together this train set, all by herself. We think she's going to follow in Leroy's steps."

"Wait, your ex? You mean you and Winry got divorced? Why! You two were so perfect together!" He grimaced for a moment. "Is that why you came to Xing!"—She jumped off the desk, leaning over slightly—"Because if it is, that's a shitty ass reason!"

"You've obviously been spending way too much time with Alphonse." He cut her off. "And, no, that's not why I went to Xing. I went to Xing because I needed to. _Don't _you dare cut me off. We can finish this conversation later; Lieutenant General Mustang is ready for you." As he said that, the door opened and out walked the man he had never met, giving him a glare with his cold steel eyes.

Mei started towards the door—which had been left open—before he caught the shift of her shoulders and her hand moving. He was beside her in an instant, holding her back by the collar of her kimono. She growled at him, telling him to let her go, but he ignored her as he held his right hand out, saying "give them here."

She growled for a moment before slapping the kunai knives down, adding in four more throwing knives with long red ribbons tied to them and a few throwing needles from her hair. "When I said 'give them here' I meant _all _of them, Mei." She glared before bending over and untying a small container from her right ankle, handing it over along with the handful of different Bangs. "Merci."

She rolled her eyes as he released her collar and turned to the others. "I'm going to take my lunch break." He started walking towards the door before he caught the movement completely within his blind spot and raised his hand, catching the knife between his first two fingers. The red ribbon drifted off of it, pulled around his wrist at the sudden lost of motion.

He left without another word.

* * *

When he came back, the others were all gone for their lunch breaks. The lights flickered on overhead and he took the moment to look at them before he pulled off his left glove and licked his fingers, squeezed them around the wick and put out both the candles. He sat down and laid out the weapons that Mei had just forcibly given him and looked at them for lack of anything better to do.

He picked up the knife that she had thrown at him and took off his other glove, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger as he ran the fine silk through there. He could already see them in the pentagram array, anchoring the flow to the Dragon's Call and vice-versa. He could see, in a powerful array, the red flying up with the energy, reaching into the middle and entangling itself with the other lines until a neat knot was formed and the energy locked away.

He slipped the knife in his pocket with his wallet and looked at his State Watch before he stood up and left once more, heading to the other side of the floor.

* * *

Three hours later, Mei finally skipped out of Mustang's office and stopped to look at Ed's empty desk. "Where's Edward-kun?" She asked, facing the others. All but the woman shrugged and she pouted for a moment before gathering her weapons, counting them off. "Hey! He has my other receptor!"

"You _did_ throw it at him." Mustang pointed out behind her. She looked up and gave him a dirty look before throwing one at the side of his head. It lodged itself in the wall beside him and he didn't even flinch! "You're only digging the hole deeper," he pointed out, raising up his left arm and caught the knife between his thumb and forefinger, tossing it back underhand.

She stuck her tongue out at him as Ed walked into the room, making his way towards his desk. "Where's my receptor?" She demanded.

"I put all your weapons and Alkahestry tools on my desk," he pointed out, "obviously you had to have counted incorrectly." He stood behind it, opened the top and grabbed out some reports he had completed earlier in the day, tucking them under his left arm.

"Then turn out your pockets."

He looked up at her out of the corner of his right eye and arched his brow. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No. Do it. _Now_."

He rolled his golden orbs and placed the papers down on his desk, reaching into his pockets. He took the moment with his right pocket to pull out his wallet and leave it on the desk, on top of the documents, before once more replacing his hand in his pocket. He turned them out, showing the white cloth before replacing them. He grabbed up his wallet once more and returned it to his pocket.

"The one with your watch in it." She crossed her arms, showing that she wasn't impressed just yet.

He shook his head and reached up, pulling the State Watch from it and pulled the pocket out next. "Are we done yet? I have a meeting I have to get to."

"Show me the inside of your gloves."

"I'll take that as a 'no'," he muttered and took them both off, flipped them inside out. He waited for her head to nod before he flipped them back and put them back on. "Now can I go? I'm going to be late at this rate."

"Fine," she grumbled. He gave her a smile and patted her shoulder before he picked up the papers once more, placed them under his arm and slipped his right hand in his pocket. "We're still on for dinner, right?"

"Yeah, same place," he nodded over his shoulder. He removed his hand from his pocket as he got closer to the door. The moment he got within the length he'd need to be to open it, he pivoted around and threw the knife.

She squealed and ducked, wrapping one arm around her stomach and one arm around her head. There was a long pause before she looked up and saw her knife there with a tag he'd added with a face sticking its tongue out. She made a frustrated noise and yanked it out, turning toward the door, which had been left open. She rushed out and looked both left and right before she stomped her foot. "Where did he go?"

* * *

In the tallest room of the Main Street Clock Tower sat a man with a hidden face, leaning back in his chair with his head pressed against the wall behind him. Through the large window to his right he could hear the sound of loud voices and cars honking, the sound waves echoing through the room and making it seem twice as loud.

The radio on his left cracked and an Alchemized voice came across it, telling him that his target was spotted walking onto the heavy street. The moment he heard it, he was out of his seat and at the window, the scope of his sniper easily helping him take aim as he waited for the figure.

Within two minutes, a blue clad man came into his reach. His shoulders were slumped and his left hand was raised, raking through his hair as he let out a deep breath. His finger was on the trigger, already pulling back when the man bent over, picking up a few papers he had dropped. Too late, the loud explosion hit his muffled ears, making him realize how far back he had pulled as people on the street screamed, running away.

_He,_ however, didn't run fast enough. His second bullet sliced through the man's pale skin, right under his shoulder blade at an angle that would prove his skill to the one he was trying to impress. The black haired man fell down, clutching his shoulder with his knees pulled up close to his chest as his entire body shook.


	3. Hospital Trip!

Chapter III –

Edward knew that he had come into the office early—it was obvious; he was in the front door of the place by 0645 hours. He also knew that his early morning meeting would have ended ten minutes after everyone (excluding the Lieutenant General) was supposed to be in, meaning he would be there at about fifteen to twenty minutes after they had all gotten in. So, "Where the heck is everyone?"

Only the empty office answered him back for three minutes until Hawkeye's phone started going off. He looked around for a bit before he slowly walked forward and reached out to pick it up. _She's going to kill me, _his mind told him as he gripped it and took it out of its cradle, lifting it to his ear "Lieutenant General Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist's office."

"_Full Metal? Where's the Captain_?"

"Lieutenant General? Where are you?"

"_That's not important. Why are you answering Hawkeye's phone_?"

"She's… out." _With everyone else. _"Why are you calling Hawkeye's phone?"

"_I was just going to tell her not to be alarmed when I come in late. Where is she?_"

"She's _your _Captain. You ask her." He shifted to and fro for a moment, looking at the room and scanning the halls for her familiar body sense. He would know when she was coming the moment she stepped onto the floor, anyway, but he still felt safer knowing that he would be able to consciously look. "Anything else, sir?"

"_I was going to have her cancel a meeting, but if she's not there, I can try and make it in_."

"The meeting with whom?" He asked, pulling his small pile of paper off his desk along with the pen.

"_Why are you asking, Full Metal?_"

"Well, just from the influx of your voice when you said that you won't get in at the earliest until half way through the meeting without straining yourself. Who's it with, I'll cancel it."

"_You sure are helpful._"

"Whatever you say. I'm not asking again."

"_Brigadier General Pihou_."

He quickly scribbled down the name. "Wait, that guy that works with the Firing Squad, training them?"

"_Yes, how do you know him?_"

"He's my friend's uncle. I've known him since I was a child. I thought he was going on an MLOA starting today or tomorrow."  
"_Its tomorrow, I believe. Just ask to push it back an hour; I can be in by then."_

He scribbled on the pad "_2 hrs_" before clearing his throat "Alright. I'll see what I can get him to do. Get in soon or Hawkeye will kill you."

"_Thanks, Full Metal_."

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you." The other line went dead as he chuckled and dialed the number of the Firing Squad.

"_Brigadier General Pihou, Firing Squad Captain's office_."

It was some woman's voice. He didn't recognize it at all, but didn't pay it much attention as he reminded himself that he hadn't been there for five years; there were more people here and less there that he knew. "Hello, is Brigadier General Pihou there?"

"_I'm afraid he's out of the office, sir. May I take a message?_"

"Ask him if he has the ability to push back his meeting with Lieutenant General Roy Mustang for about two hours. When you have the answer please call the Full Metal Alchemist with the answer."

"_Of course sir._"

As he hung up, the phone rang again. He took a quick double check around the room before hesitantly answering it and clearing his throat, feeling that next foot of dirt under him being dug out right under his feet. "Lieutenant General Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist's office."

"_Boss? Why are you answering She-Boss' phone_?"

"Havoc? Why are you calling? Wait, don't tell me. You're going to be in late?"

"_Wow, Boss, for only being gone five years, you sure are good at guessing us again! Ok, try guessing why._"

"Uh, my Automail foot's shoved three feet down your windpipe? No? Ok, why don't you tell me?"

"_I wound up in the hospital. I won't be able to get in until about thirteen-hundred hours_."

"You're in the hospital? How _the hell_ did you wind up there?"

"_First time I've heard you curse in years! Anyway, it's nothing really."  
_"Wait, I caught a skim of the newspaper coming in this morning. Did you get shot or something?"

"_See! You could have won that guessing game! Ok, ok, now try: what did I have for breakfast?_"

"My fist. What room?"

"_No, I didn't. It was a chicken sandwich, though. So you were kinda close, I guess. And I don't know. They won't tell me and they don't exactly want me out of the bed…._"

"Ok, room one-hundred something."

"_Yep_."

"A favorite number? One-ninety-two?"

"_You're good. Now, what I am I thinking_?"

"That that nurse over there has a nice ass."

"_How the hell did you know that?"  
_He hung up. Once more it went off. He growled for a moment before picking it up. "Lieutenant General Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist's office, if you're calling to tell me you're coming in late get in line, _Breda_."

"_How -?_"

He hung up, only to answer it once more. "_Hello?"_

"_Ah… Edward-kun? Why are you answering my phone?_"  
"Why are you calling yourself, Captain?"

"_I thought I told Kain to answer my phone if I'm not around_." It didn't slip past Ed that she didn't answer him, but the fact that she had called this line of all of them was enough to make him stop searching for her in the halls—though, he supposed, he really didn't need to do that anyway.

"Well, Fury ain't here yet."

"_He's not? That's odd; he's always so punctual_."

"Are you calling in late?"

"_How'd you guess?_"

_Chief, Havoc, Breda and now you… this is getting suspicious. _"Just a… whim I had. I think Fury is going to call in sick in a minute or something like that."

"_What makes you think that, sir?_"

"Another whim, I suppose. I don't know, actually, I just have that feeling."

"_Well, I'll be able to be in at about Eleven Hundred hours. May I go so far as to ask you to keep the Lieutenant General in line until then?_"

He pulled out his State Watch and looked at the time. "That's only three and a half hours. I can manage that, sure."

"_Thank you, sir. I'll see you then._"

"See you, Captain." He hung up. This time, it was his phone that went off. He let out a deep breath and looked at the ceiling, glaring for a heartbeat. _I should have stayed behind and taken the long way back here. I hate playing Secretary. _"Lieutenant General Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist's office."

"_Is the Full Metal Alchemist in?_"

At least this was the secretary from the Firing Squad. "This is he."

"_Well, sir, Brigadier General Pihou said that if the Flame Alchemist cannot make it in on time, then he can agree on three hours from the original planned time._" He scribbled it down.

"That was just about the time I was shooting for. Thank you, Miss…."

"_Robin. And, may I ask, sir, why are you doing this for the Lieutenant General if you are a Lieutenant Colonel? Or were you demoted since the last I heard?_"

"No I wasn't. I just got bored. Robin is a very beautiful name, by the way."

"_Thank you, sir._"

"Have a nice day." He managed before hanging up. He flipped to a new page in the note pad and scribbled down the note from Pihou before he tapped it on Mustang's door. As he was walking back, he noticed that Hawkeye's phone was going off. He was tempted to answer it like a _good little Secretary. _"Fuck it I'm going to the hospital."

* * *

"Excuse me," he said to the nurse at the Reception Counter, walking up to her. She had on the cliché skin-tight white shirt and pencil skirt with the black heels (off to the side, might he add) and the white nurse's cap on the top of her head with the Red Cross insignia.

"Hello," her cheery voice said, speaking through cherry lips with warm, welcoming blue eyes that only had a few strands of white-blonde hair flicking through them, the rest back in the bun at the crown of her head. "Are you here to see Lieutenant General Mustang or Captain Riza Hawkeye?"

"Um… no." He blinked a few times, startled at her question. "I wasn't aware they were enrolled…. I was here to see First Lieutenant Havoc." His brow furrowed slightly. _Wait, Havoc, Hawkeye _and _Mustang? Well, at least it's not a party I wasn't invited to…. _"Um, how many other Military Officers are enrolled?"

Her eyes flickered for a moment, as if she were reluctant to tell him before she turned to the small binder. "Let's see…. Mr. Mustang, Mr. Havoc, Miss Hawkeye, Mr. Fury, Mr. Breda and Mrs. Smith were all enrolled last night whereas Mr. Falman was enrolled… let's see, six nights ago."

"Can you give me Mustang's, Havoc's, Hawkeye's, Fury's, Breda's and Falman's room numbers please?"

"I'm going to need to see some means of identification to release that out to you, sir."

He pulled out his State Watch and let it dangle in the air for a few moments before she started writing them down. With her head bent down, he could see where her brown roots were starting to show through. He took the moment to imagine her with brown hair instead of blonde and had to admit to himself that, yes, she would definitely look better—more natural—with as a brunette. Before he could voice it, though, she handed him the small note. He took the moment to look at it and make sure everyone's that he wanted was there before giving her a charming smile and saying "thank you."

"Have a nice day, sir."

"Yeah, late, uh-huh," he said, walking into the room. In that instant, Mustang looked up to him. His right arm was in a sling and his shoulder was bandaged, too. His chest had a light growth of black hair but it was mainly between his six pack—well, the part that didn't have the huge burn on it—and, over all, there was less than what he had expected.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" was his nonchalant response. Edward had to admit that, sure, he should have, but he still wasn't in a good mood after fielding way too many calls this morning.

"Yes, I did it yesterday, too. A little this morning, as well, by the way. I just can't seem to care with you much anymore."

"Testy today, aren't you?"

"You answer Hawkeye's phone repeatedly when she's not in the office."

"Point made, thrown out and denied."—He grimaced for a moment as he shifted his right arm and he looked down at it as if it were some sort of supernatural thing—"Damn it."

He walked over and took Mustang's arm by the elbow in his left hand, making sure not to jostle it as he gently removed the sling. "So, what exactly happened?"  
"Got shot." His tongue was slow, he realized now that he was up close, and it seemed like it was taking everything he had just to speak Amestrian.

_Mustang _and_ Havoc? That's too coincidental. Is there another terrorist group on us already? The last was only a few months ago—though that was in West City, in West HQ, now that I think of it._ "Really, now?"

"What's with your tone as you say that?"

"Nothing, nothing," he shook his head. "How does it feel?"

"Like I got shot."

"I'm tempted to jostle you," he growled, laying his sling on the side of the hospital bed before grabbing the white shirt from beside it, quickly finding the right sleeve and slipped his right hand in backwards so he could grab his boss' and hold his arm in place as he gently tugged it up his arm with his other hand.

"You're practiced in this."

"Well, I can't tell you how many times I've gotten shot so that my left arm was bummed. It's the same here, only without all the pain and drugs in _me_."

"You've been shot?"

"Oh, yeah, you don't know that, do you?" He corrected himself as he finally got the shirt on over the wraps on his shoulder. "Then I haven't." Once more he grabbed his arm with his left hand, using his right to pull the sling up as Mustang quickly found the other sleeve, putting on the shirt correctly and doing up the buttons almost as if second nature to do it one handed.

"When and how? By _whom_?"

"Well, the first time I was about seven and it was a hunting accident that I had gone on with Brigadier General Pihou and his nephew. Straight through my right forearm; doesn't bother me for some reason—probably because I haven't had my arm for long, huh? Anyway, it's half my fault half his—I was loading my gun and he pulled."—He shrugged his shoulders now that he didn't have his arm in his hands.—"Pihou called it, too, but oh well."

"Pihou shot you?"

"It was an accident. He spent months after it trying to make it up to me before he realized I thought the scar was cool and he felt as if he was repaid. I never cared for that."

"How many times have you been shot?"

He held up his left hand and made a show of counting on it—all the way to ten in Amestrian Sign Language—before he shrugged and said "That's a secret between me and my doc, don't you think?" He grabbed the Military coat off the bed and tossed it at the man's good arm, watching as he easily slid it on one handed, only going as far as to put the other side on his shoulder rather than all the way on. "Oh, yeah, by the way, we have a few more rooms to visit."

"We?"

"Yes, we, now move your ass, we're going."

He stood outside the door and lightly touched his knuckles to it so that the knock would reverberate before he called out "You decent?"

There was a moment before a female voice called back that they could come in. He opened the door farther and walked in with Mustang in tow behind him. "Edward-kun?"

* * *

"Hey, Hawkeye. How're ya feelin'?"

"Just fine, thank you. What are you two doing here? How did you know I was here? I distinctly remember not mentioning why I was going to be late when I called in, sir." She was seated on the foot of the bed with the Military Issue skirt on and a white blouse, currently undone. About halfway up her stomach started the line for the wrap and gauze, only ending just under her cleavage line. Every time she shifted, her eye twitched as her form of a grimace.

"To be honest with you, Captain, I wasn't aware that you were here until after Full Metal brought me here." Mustang pointed out and rubbed the back of his neck with his good arm.

"Yeah, it wasn't until I asked the nurse up front to recheck the room number Havoc gave me when he called in, saying he couldn't make it in until Thirteen-Hundred hours at the earliest, that I found out."

"Havoc's enrolled as well?"

"Oui," he paused and just settled with a nod. "Sorry, I, literally, came here from Xing. I'm still getting out of the mind set. Anyway, we're headed towards a few other rooms, and you're required to come along."

"Required, am I?"

He offered up a sly grin. "Unless you know something I don't, yes, you are."  
She arched her brow for a moment before gently reaching forward, doing up her blouse all except the top two buttons. Her Military boots tapped on the ground as she turned around and grabbed the uniform coat. She paused and tossed it to Edward. He caught it and folded it over his right arm before gesturing them out once more.

"How _is _your side, Captain?" He asked as they walked down the corridor, turning left at the next three-way turn. "You were shot in the right side so that it barely missed your lung, correct? The doctors said you were lucky that it didn't hit anything truly vital."

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I have no idea."

"Then how did you recite it word-for-word?"

He looked over his shoulder for a moment before shrugging. "I've done that since I was a child. I have no idea honestly. Where did the bullet lodge itself? Third or fourth rib? No, no, wait, fifth."

"Fifth, yes." There was a pause as her eyes filled with mirth and she looked forward. "Remind me to never again bet against you."

He laughed through his nose. "Like you did in the first place."

* * *

As they walked through another hall, he stretched his left hand out, catching someone by the shoulder and turned them around. "Breda! Walk with us; talk with us. If you're walking around then your hip must feel better. That bullet hole must have healed almost instantaneously. Why aren't you in a wheelchair?"

"How did you-?"

"Yes, I see, must have been quick then, huh?"

"How-? You're not going to let me ask a question, are you?"

"I hung up on you, didn't I? I owe you that much."

"How the hell did you know what room I was in? Or where I was?"

"I'm just psychic like that." He joked as he noticed the almost split second look at the back of his neck. "C'mon, we gotta meet with a guy who has a hole in his bicep."

"How do you know where everyone has been shot, Full Metal?"

"Well, I knew Breda's just because he's Breda. If I were to shoot him, his hip is the optimum target zone, which means…. Actually, I don't want to repeat myself anymore than is necessary t'day, so I'm gunna wait until we're all congregated. Until then, however, we're gunna keep walking. Just tell us when you need a shoulder, Breda. I'm perfectly healthy, unlike these two."

When they all walked into the next room, Ed smiled warmly, noticing that the curtain was drawn around the bed. "Yo, Fury, it's just us, you can come outta hidin' now. We ain't got no needles."

"That's a double negative, sir," Fury's small voice muttered as his head peaked out from behind the only-slightly-magenta curtains and he offered up a wary smile. "Is that supposed to imply that you have one, sir?"

Ed laughed and shook his head. "How's your arm, man? I heard there was a lot of bleed out before the Ambulance managed to pick you up. You ok to walk?"

"Yeah, I've always had overactive marrow," the man nodded as he pushed the curtain aside. His left arm was in a sling and his chest was covered by the black missionary shirt that he preferred over the white button up (to be honest, so did Ed and Havoc) and his Military coat was on over his right arm, slung over his left shoulder much like out Mustang had his. "So I'm fine now."

"That's good to hear."

"Full Metal, how many of my team have been shot?"

"Everyone, idiot. I hunted and everyone else was in one war or another."

"Very funny, Full Metal. Answer me seriously."

"I know; I'm a riot."

"Are we going to go see Havoc, now?" Fury asked, cocking his head slightly. "I was a little worried that after no one answered my call no one would know I'd be in late when they wheeled Havoc by in a chair. They were taking him outside."

"Yeah, they're s'posed to have dropped him off in the room that I asked them to."

"Oh, that's good. It doesn't look like Breda can walk too far."

"Yeah, I'm waiting for him to drop his pride and ask."

This time, as they walked in, Ed had to drop Breda's arm and help him limp in from the hallway to the chair near Havoc (where had been wheeled in) beside a now very awake Falman, who had kicked off the covers and was now seated up on the head of the bed. He looked up at him as he walked in and gave him a smile. "How's the pneumonia treatin' ya, Falman?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm feeling better now, thank you. At this point, I'm just waiting for the doctors to declare me healthy. It's nice to see you back in a uniform, by the way, sir."

"That's right, the last time I saw you I was still in my doctor's uniform, huh?"—He let out a whistle—"Been a few years since I've seen that without the burns on it."

"Burns, sir?"

"Long story short, I'm not on good terms with my ex wife." He waved his hand in the air.

"Ex _wife_?"

"Is it really that hard to believe that I am capable of sustaining a relationship long enough to propose to someone? Honestly?" He rolled his eyes and took a few steps back and turned to Havoc. "How's your leg feel?"

"I'll tell you when I can feel it again," the blond banged man shrugged his shoulders. "Ok, let's continue with our game from earlier. Alright, I got it, what am I thinking about this time?"

"That you can't imagine me having a PhD in the Medical Field," he answered, simply before moving to the large window and sitting on the sill.

"How in the world do you do that?"

"Anyway, getting over Havoc's obvious vie for an answer, let's cut to what y'all actually care about. Not that we don't care about you, Havoc, we do, just not right now."—(_"Thanks, jackass.")_—"I can honestly say that I felt a little left out when I found out everyone here had been shot—minus you, Falman."

"You felt left out of _all _emotions?" Hawkeye asked, cocking her left hip out and putting her hands on both of them. She leaned forward for a moment before deciding that it hurt too much and straightened her spine once more. "How- how- Excuse me, sir, but how _stupid _can you get?"

_And she was once an Upper Class Child? _"Well, considering I have been shot and walked it off for three miles before passing out from heat stroke, why don't you tell me? At this point in my life, being shot at feels like a weekly thing; being it is only a _bi_weekly thing."

"Sir, you cannot walk off a bullet wound."

"Of course you can. It went clean through my right thigh. I was seventeen, of course, before you ask. Greed laughed his ass off, too, when I caught up and said I had woken up from heat stroke. He asked if that had anything to do with the hole in my thigh and my reaction was to say 'you mean that wasn't a mosquito biting me?' It was definitely a… different time."

"How much of your pride was mixed in with that message?"

"What pride? I said I was with Greed, didn't I?"


	4. Chapter 4

Hi guys! As most of you are aware, is closing shop.

This is just a courtesy note that my stories are also available at AO3 and on Tumblr, both of which have the same name to them.

Both of my files are new on each of these platforms, so I haven't gotten around to uploading what I have on this website yet, but I also have homestuck stories on the both of them. I would really appreciate it if you look them up! If you have any questions, feel free to message me on Tumblr or AO3 (if that's possible; I haven't figured it out yet).

jiraiyawhitneyFANFICTIONISAD OUCHEANDWONTALLOWDOTStumblrD OTcom

archiveofourownDOTorg /users /JiraiyaWhitney


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